The effort to establish a political test in the Whig party in opposition to the extension of Slavery failed; but the Antislavery sentiment was constantly active. Those who coöperated in the movement were denounced as disturbers, and finally obtained an epithet, applied often in sarcasm, which may be considered their highest praise. They were called Conscience Whigs, in contradistinction to Cotton Whigs. The contest was continued in the newspapers, and also in the Legislature of Massachusetts. The course of the two great political parties compelled a final break.

General Cass, who had abandoned the Wilmot Proviso, which he once maintained, was nominated by the Democrats as their candidate for the Presidency. General Taylor, who was a considerable slaveholder, was nominated by the Whigs, without any platform. It seemed impossible for persons earnest against Slavery to sustain either. Already, in New York, a considerable portion of the Democratic party, known as "Barn-burners," had refused to support General Cass, and nominated Martin Van Buren, adopting at the same time resolutions asserting the power of Congress to prohibit Slavery in the Territories, and calling for the exercise of this power.

At the nomination of General Taylor, Hon. Charles Allen and Hon. Henry Wilson, of Massachusetts, delegates to the National Convention, both refused to support the candidate. This was the signal for movement. A call was issued for a convention to found a new party. It was signed by Mr. Sumner and those with whom he was in the habit of acting. This was the beginning of the separate Free-Soil organization in Massachusetts, which afterwards grew into the Republican party. The call, which was extensively signed, concluded by inviting "fellow-citizens throughout the Commonwealth, who are opposed to the nomination of Cass and Taylor, to meet in convention at Worcester, on Wednesday, the 28th day of June current, to take such steps as the occasion shall demand in support of the Principles to which they are pledged, and to coöperate with the other Free States in a convention for this purpose." It will be observed that the people were summoned to support principles and also to coöperate with the Free States generally in this behalf. The response was prompt and enthusiastic. As many as five thousand persons appeared at Worcester, quickened by hostility to Slavery. The City Hall was not large enough, and the excited multitude adjourned to the Common, where they were called to order by Alexander DeWitt, of Oxford. Samuel F. Lyman, of Northampton, was chosen Chairman pro tem., and W.S. Robinson, of Lowell, Secretary pro tem. A committee, of which Hon. E.L. Keyes, of Dedham, was chairman, reported the following list of officers: Hon. Samuel Hoar, of Concord, President; David Heard, of Wayland, Alanson Hamilton, of North Brookfield, Joseph L. Richardson, of Medway, Dr. S.G. Howe, of Boston, John Wells, of Chicopee, Joseph Stevens, of Warwick, and R.P. Waters, of Salem, Vice-Presidents; William S. Robinson, of Lowell, William A. Wallace, of Worcester, Allen Shepard, of Ashland, William A. Arnold, of Northampton, Secretaries. On motion of Hon. S.C. Phillips, of Salem, a committee was appointed to draft an address and resolutions, consisting of Mr. Phillips, Erastus Hopkins, of Northampton, D.W. Alvord, of Greenfield, M.M. Fisher, of Medway, A.C. Spooner, of Boston, A. Bangs, of Springfield, and E. Rockwood Hoar, of Concord.

The Convention was first addressed by Samuel Hoar, on taking the chair,—then by Charles Allen, Henry Wilson, Abraham Payne, of Rhode Island, Charles Hart, of Rhode Island, J.C. Woodman, of Maine, Amasa Walker, Lott Poole, Joshua Leavitt, Lewis D. Campbell, of Ohio, Joshua R. Giddings, of Ohio, J.C. Lovejoy, Charles Francis Adams, Charles Sumner, Edward L. Keyes, and E. Rockwood Hoar. The speeches were earnest and determined, and they were received in a corresponding spirit. No great movement ever showed at the beginning more character and power. It began true and strong.

All the speakers united in renouncing old party ties. None did this better than C.F. Adams, who concluded his remarks by saying: "Forgetting the things that are behind, I propose that we press forward to the high calling of our new occupation; and, fellow-citizens, whatever may be the fate of you or me, all I can now add is to repeat the words of one with whom I take pride in remembering that I have been connected: 'Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish,' to go with the liberties of my country is my fixed determination." To these words Mr. Sumner alluded at the beginning of his speech.

Mr. President and Fellow-Citizens:—

At the close of a day crowded with exciting interest and full of best auguries, I feel that I can add little to what you have already heard. What can I say that shall enforce the great cause so successfully commended by my friend from Ohio [Mr. Giddings], and, lastly, by my friend [Mr. Adams] who has just spoken, with the voice of the American Revolution on his lips? One thing, at least, I can do: I can join them in renunciation of party relations, so plainly inconsistent with the support of Freedom. They have been Whigs; and I, too, have been a Whig, though "not an ultra Whig." I was a Whig because I thought this party represented the moral sentiments of the country,—that it was the party of Humanity. It has ceased to sustain this character. It represents no longer the moral sentiments of the country. It is not the party of Humanity. A party which renounces its sentiments must expect to be renounced. In the coming contest I wish it understood that I belong to the party of Freedom,—to that party which plants itself on the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States.

The transactions in which we are now engaged recall an incident of French history. It was late in the night, at Versailles, that a courtier of Louis the Sixteenth, penetrating the bed-chamber of his master, and arousing him from slumber, communicated the intelligence, big with destiny, that the people of Paris, smarting under wrong and falsehood, had risen in their might, and, after a severe conflict with hireling troops, destroyed the Bastile. The unhappy monarch, turning upon his couch, said, "It is an insurrection." "No, Sire," answered the honest courtier, "it is a revolution." And such is our movement to-day. It is a Revolution,—not beginning with the destruction of a Bastile, but destined to end only with the overthrow of a tyranny differing little in hardship and audacity from that which sustained the Bastile of France,—I mean the Slave Power of our country. Do not start at this similitude. I intend no unkindness to slaveholders, many of whom are doubtless humane and honest. Such also was Louis the Sixteenth; and yet he sustained the Bastile, with the untold horrors of its dungeons, where human beings were thrust into companionship with toads and rats.

By the Slave Power I understand that combination of persons, or, perhaps, of politicians, whose animating principle is the perpetuation and extension of Slavery, with the advancement of Slaveholders. That such a combination exists is apparent from our history. It shows itself in the mildest, and perhaps the least offensive form, in the undue proportion of offices held by Slaveholders under the National Constitution. It is still worse apparent in a succession of acts by which the National Government has been prostituted to Slavery. Mindful of the Missouri Compromise, with its sanction of Slavery,—mindful of the annexation of Texas, with its fraud and iniquity,—mindful also of the war against Mexico, in itself a great crime, where wives and sisters have been compelled to mourn sons, husbands, and brothers untimely slain,—as these things, dark, dismal, atrocious, rise before us, may we not brand their unquestionable source as a tyranny hateful as that which sustained the Bastile? The Slave Power is the criminal.

This combination is unknown to the Constitution; nay, it exists in defiance of that instrument, and of the recorded opinions uttered constantly by its founders. The Constitution was the crowning labor of the men who gave us the Declaration of Independence. It was established to perpetuate, in organic law, those rights which the Declaration had promulgated, and which the sword of Washington had secured. "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Such are the emphatic words which our country took upon its lips, as it first claimed its place among the nations of the earth. These were its baptismal vows. And the preamble of the Constitution renews them, when it declares its objects, among other things, to "establish justice, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity." Mark: not to establish injustice, not to promote the welfare of a class, or of a few slaveholders, but the general welfare; not to foster the curse of slavery, but to secure the blessings of liberty. And the declared opinions of the fathers were all in harmony with these two charters. "I can only say," said Washington, "that there is not a man living who wishes more sincerely than I do to see a plan adopted for the abolition of slavery; but there is only one proper and effectual mode by which it can be accomplished, and that is by legislative authority; and this, as far as my suffrage will go, shall never be wanting."[240] Patrick Henry, while confessing that he was the master of slaves, said: "I will not, I cannot justify it. However culpable my conduct, I will so far pay my devoir to Virtue as to own the excellence and rectitude of her precepts, and lament my want of conformity to them. I believe a time will come, when an opportunity will be offered to abolish this lamentable evil."[241] And Franklin, as President of the earliest Abolition Society of the country, signed a petition to the first Congress, in which he declared himself "bound to use all justifiable endeavors to loosen the bands of slavery, and promote a general enjoyment of the blessings of freedom."[242] Thus the soldier, the orator, and the philosopher of the Revolution, all unite in homage to Freedom. Washington, wise in council and in battle, Patrick Henry, with tongue of flame, Franklin, with heaven-descended sagacity and humanity, all bear testimony to the times in which they lived, and the institutions they helped to establish.

It is plain that our Constitution was formed by lovers of Human Freedom,—that it was animated by their divine spirit,—that Slavery was regarded by them with aversion, so that, if covertly alluded to, it was not named in the instrument,—and that they all looked forward to an early day when this evil and shame would be obliterated from the land. Surely, then, it is right to say that the combination which seeks to perpetuate and extend Slavery is unknown to the Constitution,—that it exists in defiance of that instrument, and also of the recorded opinions uttered constantly by its founders.

Time would fail me to dwell on the perpetual influence, growing with time, which the Slave Power has exerted from the foundation of the government. In the earlier periods of our history it was moderate and reserved. The spirit of the founders still prevailed. But with the advance of years, and as these early champions passed from the scene, it became more audacious, aggressive, and tyrannical, till at last it obtained the control of the government, and caused it to be administered, not in the spirit of Freedom, but in the spirit of Slavery. Yes! the government of the United States is now (let it be said with shame), not, as at the beginning, a government merely permitting, while it regretted Slavery, but a government openly favoring and vindicating it, visiting also with its displeasure all who oppose it.

During late years the Slave Power has introduced a new test for office, which would have excluded Washington, Jefferson, and Franklin. It applies an arrogant and unrelenting ostracism to all who express themselves against Slavery. And now, in the madness of tyranny, it proposes to extend this curse over new soil not yet darkened by its presence. It seeks to make the flag of our country the carrier of Slavery into distant lands,—to scale the mountain fastnesses of Oregon, and descend with its prey upon the shores of the Pacific,—to cross the Rio Grande, and there, in broad territories, recently wrested from Mexico by robber hands, to plant a shameful institution which that republic has expressly abolished.

In the prosecution of its purposes, the Slave Power has obtained the control of both the great political parties. Their recent nominations were made to serve its interests, to secure its supremacy, and especially to promote the extension of Slavery. Whigs and Democrats,—I use the old names still,—professing to represent conflicting sentiments, concur in being representatives of the Slave Power. General Cass, after openly registering his adhesion to it, was recognized as the candidate of the Democrats. General Taylor, who owns slaves on a large scale, though observing a studious silence on Slavery, as on all other things, is not only a representative of the Slave Power, but an important constituent part of the Power itself.

I will not dwell upon the manner in which General Taylor was forced upon the late Whig party. This has been amply done by others. But you will pardon me, if I allude to the aid his nomination derived from a quarter of the country where it should have encountered inexorable opposition,—I refer to New England, and especially to Massachusetts. I speak only what is now too notorious, when I say that it was the secret influence which went forth from among ourselves that contributed powerfully to this consummation. Yes! it was brought about by an unhallowed union—conspiracy let it be called—between two remote sections: between the politicians of the Southwest and the politicians of the Northeast,—between the cotton-planters and flesh-mongers of Louisiana and Mississippi and the cotton-spinners and traffickers of New England,—between the lords of the lash and the lords of the loom.

And now the question occurs, What is the true line of duty with regard to these two candidates? Mr. Van Buren—and I honor him for his trumpet call to the North—sounded the true note, when he said he could not vote for either. Though nominated by opposite parties, they represent substantially the same interest. The election of either would be a triumph of the Slave Power, entailing upon the country the sin of extending Slavery. How, then, shall they be encountered? To my mind the way is plain. The lovers of Freedom, from both parties, and irrespective of all party associations, must unite, and by a new combination, congenial to the Constitution, oppose both candidates. This will be the FREEDOM POWER, whose single object will be to resist the SLAVE POWER. We will put them face to face, and let them grapple. Who can doubt the result?

I hear the old political saw, that "we must take the least of two evils." My friend from Ohio [Mr. Giddings] has already riddled this excuse, so that I might well leave it untouched; but I cannot forbear a brief observation. It is admitted, then, that Cass and Taylor both are evils. For myself, if two evils are presented to me, I will take neither. There are occasions of political difference, I admit, when it may become expedient to vote for a candidate who does not completely represent our sentiments. There are matters legitimately within the range of expediency and compromise. The Tariff and the Currency are of this character. If a candidate differs from me on these more or less, I may yet vote for him. But the question before the country is of another character. This will not admit of compromise. It is not within the domain of expediency. To be wrong on this is to be wholly wrong. It is not merely expedient for us to defend Freedom, when assailed, but our duty so to do, unreservedly, and careless of consequences. Who in this assembly would help to fasten a fetter upon Oregon or Mexico? Who that would not oppose every effort to do this thing? Nobody. Who is there, then, that can vote for either Taylor or Cass?

But it is said that we shall throw away our votes, and that our opposition will fail. Fail, Sir! No honest, earnest effort in a good cause can fail. It may not be crowned with the applause of men; it may not seem to touch the goal of immediate worldly success, which is the end and aim of so much in life. But it is not lost. It helps to strengthen the weak with new virtue,—to arm the irresolute with proper energy,—to animate all with devotion to duty, which in the end conquers all. Fail! Did the martyrs fail, when with precious blood they sowed the seed of the Church? Did the discomfited champions of Freedom fail, who have left those names in history that can never die? Did the three hundred Spartans fail, when, in the narrow pass, they did not fear to brave the innumerable Persian hosts, whose very arrows darkened the sun? Overborne by numbers, crushed to earth, they left an example greater far than any victory. And this is the least we can do. Our example will be the main-spring of triumph hereafter. It will not be the first time in history that the hosts of Slavery have outnumbered the champions of Freedom. But where is it written that Slavery finally prevailed?

Assurances here to-day show that we need not postpone success. It seems already at hand. The heart of Ohio beats responsive to the heart of Massachusetts, and all the Free States are animated with the vigorous breath of Freedom. Let us not waste time in vain speculations between two candidates. Both are bad. Both represent a principle we cannot sanction.

Whatever may be said to the contrary by politicians, Freedom is the only question now before the American people. The Bank is not alone an "obsolete idea." All the ideas put forward in the controversies of party are now practically obsolete. Peace has come to remove the question of the Mexican War. We are no longer obliged to consider if an unnecessary and unconstitutional war shall be maintained by supplies. There is no question with regard to the Sub-Treasury. This is now firmly established. Then comes the cause of Internal Improvements. This is not unimportant, but happily it is removed from the domain of party. The Chicago Convention for the express consideration of this subject was composed of various political opinions, and I understand that its recommendations are now sustained by opposite parties.

Of the past issues, that of the Tariff excites the most interest. This, it will be remembered, did not find a place in the early history of the country. Only in recent times has it occupied the attention of politicians, and been the occasion of vehement popular appeals. Regret is often expressed that it is the subject of party strife. It will be in the recollection of most persons that Mr. Webster made a vigorous effort to remove it from the list of party questions. What he was unable to do directly has been accomplished indirectly by the Mexican War. The debt of millions now entailed upon the country renders it necessary to impose a tariff which will satisfy the demands of all. Of course the debt must be paid; nor should we lose time in paying it, nor postpone it to the next generation. The people are not ready to meet it by direct taxation,—though, for one, I should be well pleased to see such a corrective applied to war. It can be paid only through the agency of a tariff, which, for this purpose, if for no other, must be supported by all parties. The Tariff, then, like the others, is no longer a political issue. If not obsolete, it is at least in abeyance.

These questions being out of the way, what remains for those who, in casting their votes, regard principles rather than men? It is clear that the only question of present practical interest arises from the usurpations of the Slave Power and the efforts to extend Slavery. This is the vital question at this time. It is the question of questions. It was lately said in the Convention of the New York Democracy at Utica (and I am glad to quote that most respectable body of men), that the movement in which we are now engaged is the most important since the American Revolution. Something more may be said. It is a continuance of the American Revolution. It is an effort to carry into effect the principles of the Declaration of Independence, and to revive in the administration of our government the spirit of Washington, Franklin, and Jefferson,—to bring back the Constitution to the principles and practice of its early founders,—to the end that it shall promote Freedom, and not Slavery, and shall be administered in harmony with the spirit of Freedom, and not with the spirit of Slavery.

In the last will and testament of Washington are emphatic words, which may be adopted as the motto for the present contest. After providing for the emancipation of his slaves, to take place on the death of his wife, he says, "And I do hereby expressly forbid the sale or transportation out of the said Commonwealth of any slave I may die possessed of, under any pretence whatsoever."[243] So, at least, should the people of the United States expressly forbid the sale or transportation of any slave beyond their ancient borders, under any pretence whatsoever.

Returning to our forefathers for their principles, let us borrow also something of their courage and union. Let us summon to our sides the majestic forms of those civil heroes whose firmness in council was equalled only by the firmness of Washington in war. Let us again awake to the eloquence of the elder Adams, animating his associates in Congress to independence; let us listen anew to the sententious wisdom of Franklin; let us be enkindled, as were the men of other days, by the fervid devotion to Freedom which flamed from the heart of Jefferson.

Instructed even by our enemies, let us be taught by the Slave Power itself. The few slaveholders are always united. Hence their strength. Like sticks in a fagot, they cannot be broken. Thus far the friends of Freedom have been divided. Union, then, must be our watchword,—union among men of all parties. By such union we consolidate an opposition which must prevail.

Let me call upon you, then, men of all parties, Whigs and Democrats, or howsoever named, to come forward and join in a common cause. Let us all leave the old organizations, and come together. In the crisis before us, it becomes us to forget past differences, and those names which have been the signal of strife. Only remembering our duties, when the fire-bell rings at midnight, we ask not if it be Whigs or Democrats who join us to extinguish the flames; nor do we make any such inquiry in selecting our leader then. To the strongest arm and the most generous soul we defer at once. To him we commit the direction of the engine. His hand grasps the pipe to pour the water upon the raging conflagration. So must we do now. Our leader must be the man who is the ablest and surest representative of the principles to which we are pledged.

Let Massachusetts, nurse of the men and principles that made our earliest revolution, vow herself anew to her early faith. Let her once more elevate the torch which she first held aloft, or, if need be, pluck fresh coals from the living altars of France, proclaiming, "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity,"—Liberty to the captive, Equality between master and slave, Fraternity with all men,—the whole comprehended in that sublime revelation of Christianity, the Brotherhood of Man.

In the contemplation of these great interests, the intrigues of party, the machinations of politicians, the combinations of office-seekers, all seem to pass from sight. Politics and morals, no longer divorced from each other, become one and inseparable in the holy wedlock of Christian sentiment. Such a union elevates politics, while it gives a new sphere to morals. Political discussions have a grandeur which they never before assumed. Released from topics which concern only the selfish squabble for gain, and are often independent of morals, they come home to the heart and conscience. A novel force passes into the contests of party, breathing into them the breath of a new life,—of Hope, Progress, Justice, Humanity.

From this demonstration to-day, and the acclaim wafted to us from the Free States, it is easy to see that the great cause of Liberty, to which we now dedicate ourselves, will sweep the heart-strings of the people. It will smite all the chords with a might to draw forth emotions such as no political struggle ever awakened before. It will move the young, the middle-aged, and the old. It will find a voice in the social circle, and mingle with the flame of the domestic hearth. It will touch the souls of mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters, until the sympathies of all swell in one irresistible chorus of indignation against the deep damnation of lending new sanction to the enslavement of our brother man.

Come forward, then, men of all parties! let us range together. Come forth, all who thus far have kept aloof from parties! here is occasion for action. Men of Peace, come forth! All who in any way feel the wrong of Slavery, take your stand! Join us, lovers of Truth, of Justice, of Humanity! And let me call especially upon the young. You are the natural guardians of Freedom. In your firm resolves and generous souls she will find her surest protection. The young man who is not willing to serve in her cause, to suffer, if need be, in her behalf, gives little promise of those qualities which secure an honorable age.

THE LAW OF HUMAN PROGRESS.

An Oration before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Union College, Schenectady, July 25, 1848.

Secta fuit servare modum, finemque tenere,

Naturamque sequi, patriæque impendere vitam,

Nec sibi, sed toti genitum se credere mundo.

Lucan, Pharsalia, Lib. II. 381-383.

Plus les lumières se répandent, plus les écarts de la moyenne vont en diminuant; plus, par conséquent, nous tendons à nous rapprocher de ce qui est beau et de ce qui est bien. La perfectibilité de l'espèce humaine résulte comme une conséquence nécessaire de toutes nos recherches.—Quetelet, Sur l'Homme, Tom. II. p. 326.

Marvell, To his Coy Mistress.

ORATION.

From opposite parts of the country, from various schools of sentiment, we have come together, at this happy anniversary, to interchange salutations, to mingle in friendly communion, and to catch such words of cheer as the occasion shall convey. Here are the young, with freshest laurel of Alma Mater, with joy brightening and hope elevating the countenance, still unconscious of the toils which enter into the duties of the world. Here are they, too, of middle life, on whose weary foreheads the sun now pours his meridian ray, resting for a moment in these pleasant retreats to renew their strength. Here, also, are the fathers, crowned with length of days, and rich with ripened wisdom, withdrawn from active struggle, and dwelling much in meditation upon the Past. The Future, the Present, and the Past, all find their representatives in our Fraternity.

I speak of our Fraternity; for, though a stranger among you, yet, as a member of this society in a sister University, and as a student of letters in moments snatched from other pursuits, I may claim kindred here. Let me speak, then, as to my own brethren. Invited by your partial kindness, it is my privilege to unfold some subject, which, while claiming your attention during this brief hour, may not improperly mingle with the memories of this anniversary. I would, if I could, utter truth which, while approved by the old, should sink deep into the souls of the young, filling them with strength for all good works. Mindful, then, of the occasion, deeply conscious of its requirements, solicitous of the harmony which becomes our literary festivals, I cannot banish from my thoughts a topic which is intimately connected with the movements of the present age,—nay, which explains and controls these movements, whether in the march of science, the triumphs of charity, the widespread convulsions of Europe, or the generous uprising of our own country in behalf of Freedom.

Wherever we turn is Progress,—in science, in literature, in knowledge of the earth, in knowledge of the skies, in intercourse among men, in the spread of liberty, in works of beneficence, in the recognition of Human Brotherhood. Thrones, where Authority seemed to sit secure, with the sanction of centuries, are shaken, and new-made constitutions come to restrain the aberrations of unlimited power. Men everywhere, breaking away from the Past, are pressing on to the things that are before.

Recall for one moment what has taken place during a brief span of time, hardly exceeding a year. I do not dwell on that mighty revolution in France, with whose throes the earth still shakes, and whose issues are yet unrevealed; I do not pause to contemplate the character of that Pontifical Reformer who has done so much to breathe into Europe the breath of a new life; I can only point to Sicily and Naples, rising against a besotted tyranny,—to Venice and Lombardy, claiming long-lost rights,—to all Italy, filled with the thought of Unity,—to Hungary, flaming with republican fires,—to Austria, roused at last against a patriarchal despotism,—to Prussia, taking her place among constitutional states,—to Germany, in its many principalities, throbbing with the strong pulse of Freedom. These things are present to your minds.

Other events, of a different character, are not less signs of the age. Discovery has achieved one of its most brilliant, as also one of its most benign results. The genius of Leverrier, traversing the spaces of the heavens, has disclosed a new planet. By the application of ether, the dreaded pain of the surgical knife, and even the pangs of Nature, are soothed or removed, while Death is disarmed of something of its terrors.

These latter times have witnessed two spectacles of another nature and less regarded, which are of singular significance,—harbingers, I would call them, of those glad days of promise which we almost seem to touch. I would not exaggerate, and yet I must speak of them as they impress my own mind. To me they are of a higher order than any discovery in science, or any success in the acquisition of knowledge, or any political prosperity, inasmuch as they are the tokens of that moral elevation, and of that Human Brotherhood, without distinction of condition, nation, or race, which it is the supreme office of all science, all knowledge, and all politics to serve. I refer to the sailing of the Jamestown from Boston with succor to the starving poor of Ireland, and to the meeting of the Penitentiary Congress at Frankfort. All confess the beauty of that act, where prophecy seems fulfilled, by which a Ship of War was consecrated to a purpose of charity. Hardly less beautiful is the contemplation of that assembly at Frankfort (perhaps it is new to some whom I have the honor of addressing), where were delegates from most of the Christian nations,—from military France, Holland, Belgium, Switzerland, the States of Germany, England, Spain, Italy, Denmark, Poland, distant Russia, and frozen Norway,—convened for no purpose of war or diplomacy,—not to agitate selfish coalitions, not to adjust or disturb the seeming balance of Europe, not to exalt or abase the vaulting ambition of potentate or state, but calmly and in fraternal council to consider what could be done for those who are in prison, to hear the recital of efforts in their behalf among all the nations, and to encourage each other in this work. Such a Congress forms a truer epoch of Christian Progress—does it not?—than the Congress of Vienna, with the bespangled presence of great autocrats distributing the spoils of war, as the sailing of the Jamestown is a higher Christian triumph than any mere victory of blood.

Profoundly penetrated by these things, you will confess the Progress of Man. The earnest soul, enlightened by history, strengthened by philosophy, nursed to childish slumber by the simple prayer, "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven," confident in the final, though slow, fulfilment of the daily fulfilling promises of the Future, looks forward to the continuance of this Progress during unknown and infinite ages, as a law of our being.

It is of this that I shall speak to-day. My subject is The Law of Human Progress. In selecting this theme, I would not minister to the pride or gratulation of the Present, nor would I furnish motives for indifference or repose. Rather would I teach how small is the Present and all it contains, compared with the Future, and how duties increase with the grandeur upon which we enter, while we derive new encouragement from knowledge of the law which is our support and guide.

The subject is vast as it is interesting and important. It might well occupy a volume, rather than a brief discourse. In unfolding it, I shall speak first of the history of this law, as seen in its origin, gradual development, and recognition,—and next of its character, conditions, and limitations, with the duties it enjoins and the encouragements it affords.

I.

And, first, of its history. The recognition of this law has been reserved for comparatively recent times. Like other general laws governing the courses of Nature, it was unknown to Antiquity. The ignorance and prejudice which then prevailed with regard to the earth, the heavenly bodies, and their relations to the universe, found fit companionship with the wild speculations concerning the Human Family. The ignorant live only in the Present, whether of time or place. What they see and observe bounds their knowledge. Thus to the early Greek the heavens were upborne by the mountains, and the sun traversed daily in fiery chariot from east to west. So things seemed to him. But the true Destiny of the Human Family was as little comprehended.

Man, in his origin and history, was surrounded with fable; nor was there any correct idea of the principles determining the succession of events. Revolutions of states were referred sometimes to chance, sometimes to certain innate elements of decay. Plutarch did not hesitate to ascribe the triumphs of Rome, not to the operation of immutable law, but to the fortune of the Republic. And Polybius, whom Gibbon extols for wisdom and philosophical spirit, said that Carthage, being so much older than Rome, felt her decay so much the sooner; and the survivor, he announced, carried in her bosom the seeds of mortality. The image of youth, manhood, and age was applied to nations. Like mortals on earth, they were supposed to have a period of life, and a length of thread spun by the Fates, strong at first, but thinner and weaker with advancing time, till at last it was cut, and another nation, with newly twisted thread, commenced its career.

In likening the life of a nation to the life of an individual man, there was error, commended by seeming truth, not yet entirely banished. It prevails still with many, who have not received the Law of Human Progress, teaching that all revolutions and changes are but links in the chain of development, or, it may be, turns in the grand spiral, by which the unknown infinite Future is connected with the Past. Nations have decayed, but never with the imbecility of age.

The ancients saw that there were changes, but did not detect the principles governing them, while a favorite fable and popular superstition conspired to turn attention back upon the Past, rather than forward to the Future. In the dawn of Greece, Hesiod, standing near the Father of Poetry, sang the descending mutations through which Mankind had seemed to travel. First came the Golden Age, so he fabled, when men lived secure and happy in pleasant association, without discord, without care, without toil, without weariness, while good of all kinds abounded, like the plentiful fruits which the earth spontaneously supplied. This was followed by the Silver Age, with a race inferior in form and disposition. Next was the Brazen Age, still descending in the scale, when men became vehement and robust, strong in body and stern in soul, building brazen houses, wielding brazen weapons, prompt to war, but not yet entirely wicked. Last, and unhappily his own, according to the poet, was the Iron Age, when straightway all evil raged forth; neither by day nor yet by night, did men rest from labor and sorrow; discord took the place of concord; the pious, the just, and the good were without favor; the man of force and the evil-doer were cherished; modesty and justice yielded to insolence and wrong. War now prevailed, and men lived in wretchedness.[244]

Such, according to the Greek poet, was the succession of changes through which mankind had passed. This fable found a response. It was repeated by philosophy and history. Plato adorned and illustrated it. Strabo and Diodorus imparted to it their grave sanction. It was carried to Rome, with the other spoils of Greece. It was reproduced by Ovid, in flowing verses that have become a commonplace of literature. It was recognized by the tender muse of Virgil, the sportive fancy of Horace, and the stern genius of Juvenal. Songs and fables have ever exerted a powerful control over human opinion; nor is it possible to estimate the influence of this story in shaping unconsciously the thoughts of mankind. It is easy to understand that the youth of Antiquity,—let me say, too, the youth of later ages,—nay, of our own day, in our own schools and colleges,—nurtured by this literature, should learn to neglect the Future, and rather regard the Past. The words of Horace have afforded a polished expression to this prejudice of education:—

Barren as is classical literature in any just recognition of the continuity of events, any true appreciation of the movement of history, or any well-defined confidence in the Future, it were wrong to say that it never found a voice which seemed, in harmony with the Prophets and the Evangelists, to proclaim the advent of a better age. Virgil, in his Eclogue to Pollio,—the exact meaning of which is still a riddle,—breaks forth in words of vague aspiration, which have been sometimes supposed to herald the coming of the Saviour. The blessings of Peace are here foreshadowed, while the Golden Age seems to be not only behind, but also before. Thus, notwithstanding the prejudice of superstition and the constraint of ignorance, has the human heart, in longings for a better condition on earth, gone forward as the pioneer of Humanity.

To the superstition of Heathenism succeeded that of the Christian Church. The popular doctrine of an immediate millennium, inculcated by a succession of early fathers, took the place of ancient fable; and a Golden Age was placed in advance to animate the hope and perseverance of the faithful. It was believed that the anxieties and strifes filling the lives of men were all to be lost in a blissful Sabbath of a thousand years, when Christ with the triumphant band of saints would return to reign upon earth until the last and general resurrection. Vain and irrational as was the early form of this anticipation, it was not without advantage. It filled the souls of all who received it with aspirations for the Future, while it rudely prefigured that promised period—then, alas! how distant!—when the whole world will glow in the illumination of Christian truth. Among the means by which the Law of Human Progress has found acceptance, it is only just to mention this prophetic vision of the ancient Church.

All the legitimate influences of Christianity were in the same direction. Christianity is the religion of Progress. Here is a distinctive feature, which we vainly seek in any Heathen faith professed upon earth. Confucius, in his sublime morals, taught us not to do unto others what we would have them not do unto us; but the Chinese philosopher did not declare the ultimate triumph of this law. It was reserved for the Sermon on the Mount to reveal the vital truth, that all the highest commands of religion and duty, drawing in their train celestial peace, and marking the final goal of all Progress among men, shall one day be obeyed. "For verily I say unto you," says the Saviour, "till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the Law, till all be fulfilled."

There is nothing of good so vast or beautiful, nothing so distant or seemingly inaccessible, as to fall beyond the reach of these promises. Though imperfectly understood, or recognized, in the night of ignorance and prejudice, they were heralds of the dawn. In the advance of Modern Europe, they led the way, whispering, Onward forever! Long before Philosophy deduced the Law of Human Progress from the history of man, the Gospel silently planted it in the human heart. There it rested, influencing powerfully, though gently, the march of events.

Slowly did it pass from the formularies of devotion into the convictions of reason and the treasury of science. Strange blindness! They, who, repeating the Lord's Prayer, daily called for the coming of his kingdom on earth, who professed implicit faith in the final fulfilment of the Law, still continued in Heathen ignorance of the significance and spirit of the Prayer they daily uttered and of the Law they daily recognized. They did not perceive that the kingdom of the Lord was to come, and the Law to be fulfilled by a continuity of daily labor. As modern civilization gradually unfolded itself amidst the multiplying generations of men, they witnessed the successive manifestations of power,—but perceived no Law. They looked upon the imposing procession of events, but did not discern the rule which guided the mighty series. Ascending from triumph to triumph, they saw dominion extended by the discoveries of intrepid navigators,—saw learning strengthened by the studies of accomplished scholars,—saw universities opening their portals to ingenuous youth in all corners of the land, from Aberdeen and Copenhagen to Toledo and Ferrara,—saw Art put forth new graces in the painting of Raffaelle, new grandeur in the painting, the sculpture, and the architecture of Michel Angelo,—caught the strains of poets, no longer cramped by ancient idioms, but flowing sweetly in the language learned at a mother's knee,—received the manifold revelations of science in geometry, mathematics, astronomy,—beheld the barbarism of the barbarous Art of War changed and refined, though barbarous still, by the invention of gunpowder,—witnessed knowledge of all kinds springing to unwonted power through the marvellous agency of the printing-press,—admired the character of the Good Man of Peace, as described in that work of unexampled circulation, translated into all modern languages, the "Imitation of Christ," by Thomas à Kempis,—listened to the apostolic preaching of Wyckliffe in England, Huss in Bohemia, Savonarola in Florence, Luther at Worms; and yet all these things, the harmonious expression of progressive energies belonging to Man, token of an untiring advance, earnest of a mightier Future, seemed to teach no certain lesson.

The key to this advance had not been found. It was not seen that the constant desire for improvement implanted in man, with the constant effort consequent thereon in a life susceptible of indefinite Progress, caused, naturally, under the laws of a beneficent God, an indefinite advance,—that the evil passions of individuals, or of masses, while retarding, could not permanently restrain this divine impulse,—and that each generation, by irresistible necessity, added to the accumulations of the Past, and in this way prepared a higher Future. To all ignorant of this tendency, history, instead of a connected chain, with cause and effect in natural order, is nothing but a disconnected, irregular series of incidents, like separate and confused circles having no common bond. It is a dark chaos, embroiled by "chance, high arbitress," or swayed by some accidental man, fortunate in position or power. Even Macchiavelli, the consummate historian and politician of his age,—Bodin, the able speculator upon Government,—Bossuet, the eloquent teacher of religion and history,—Grotius, the illustrious founder of the Laws of Nations,—whose large intelligence should have grasped the true philosophy of events,—all failed to recognize in them any prevailing law or governing principle.

It was reserved for a professor at Naples, Giambattista Vico, in the early part of the last century, to review the history of the Past, analyze its movements, and finally disclose the existence of a primitive rule or law by which these movements were effected. His work, entitled "The Principles of a New Science concerning the Common Nature of Nations,"[246] first published in 1725, constitutes an epoch in historical studies. Recent Italian admirers vindicate for its author a place among great discoverers, by the side of Descartes, Galileo, Bacon, and Newton.[247] Without undertaking to question, or to adopt, this lofty homage to a name little known, it will not be doubted, that, as author of an elaborate work devoted expressly to the philosophy of history, at a period when history was supposed to be without philosophy, he deserves honorable mention.

Vico taught regard not merely for the individual and the nation, but the race, and showed, that, whatever the fortunes of individuals, Humanity advances,—that no blind or capricious chance controls the course of human affairs, but that whatever is done proceeds directly, under God, from the forces and faculties of men, and thus can have no true cause except in the nature of things,—excluding, of course, the idea of chance. He recognized three principles at the foundation of civilization: first, the existence of Divine Providence; secondly, the necessity of moderating the passions; and, thirdly, the immortality of the soul: three primal truths, answering to three historical facts of universal acceptance,—religion, marriage, and sepulture. Three stages marked the history of mankind: first, the divine, or theocratic; next, the heroic; and, lastly, the human. These appeared in Antiquity, and were reproduced, as he fancied, in modern times. Ingenuity and novelty are stamped upon this exposition, which is elevated by the exclusion of chance and the recognition of God.

While recognizing Humanity as governed by law, and with a common dependence, the Neapolitan professor failed to perceive that this same law and this common dependence promise to conduct it through unknown and infinite stages. Believing monarchy a perfect government, he did not see beyond the time of kings. Like others before him, and even in our own day, he was perplexed by the treacherous image of youth, manhood, and age, which he applied to nations, as to the individual man. No discovery is complete, and that of Vico, while most ingenious and fruitful, failed to grasp the whole law of the Future.

Meanwhile a gigantic genius in Germany,—whose vision, no less comprehensive than penetrating, embraced the whole circumference of knowledge and reached into the undiscovered Future, to whom the complexities of mathematics, the subtilties of philology, the mazes of philosophy, the courses of history, the rules of jurisprudence, and the heights of theology were all equally familiar,—Leibnitz, that more than imperial conqueror in the realms of universal knowledge,—the greatest, perhaps, of Human Intelligences,—enunciated the Law of Progress in all the sciences and all the concerns of life. The Present, born of the Past, he said, is pregnant with the Future. It is by a sure series that we advance, using and enjoying all our gifts for health of body and improvement of mind. Everything, from the simplest substance up to man, progresses towards God, the Infinite Being, Source of all other beings; and in bold words, which may require explanation, he says, "Man seems able to arrive at perfection": Videtur homo ad perfectionem venire posse.[248]

Leibnitz saw the Law of Progress by intuition, and became its herald. But there is no reason to believe that he appreciated its transcendent importance as a rule of conduct, and submitted his great powers to its influence. He saw more than Vico, but he did not discern the practical guide he had discovered. And yet, recognizing this law, the gates of the Future were open to him, and he saw Man in distant perspective, arrived at heights of happiness which he cannot now conceive. The vision of Universal Peace was to him no longer a vision, but the practical idea of humane statesmen, while he bent his incomparable genius to the discovery of a new agent of intercourse among men,—the aspiration of other philosophers since his day,—a Universal Language, where the confusion of tongues will be forgotten, and the union of hearts be consummated in the union of speech.

Close upon Leibnitz came Lessing, whose genius, less universal, but more exquisite, made him the regenerator of German literature. His soul was touched by sympathy for all mankind, and he saw its sure advance. Almost by his side was Herder, gifted among a gifted people, who in his "Philosophy of History" portrays Humanity in its incessant progress from small beginnings of ignorance and barbarism, when wrong and war and slavery prevail, to the recognition of reason and justice as the rule of life. "There is nothing enthusiastical," he says in that work, which is a classic of German prose, "in the hope, that, wherever men dwell, at some future period will dwell men rational, just, and happy,—happy, not through the means of their own reason alone, but of the common reason of their whole fraternal race."[249] In these last words the Law of Progress is announced, with all its promises.

In France we trace this law through a succession of master minds,—first of whom in time, as in authority, is Descartes, the chief of French philosophy. His life was crowded with triumphs of intellect, and after death his spirit seemed for a time to rule all departments of study. Like the universal soul of the Stoics, it was everywhere. Though not formally enunciating the Law of Progress, his "Discourse on Method," first published in 1637, acknowledged its influence in natural science. "The experience which I have in physics," he says, "teaches me that it is possible to arrive at a knowledge of many things which will be very useful to life, and that we may yet discover methods by which man, comprehending the force and the action of fire, water, air, stars, skies, and all the other bodies which environ us, as distinctly as we comprehend the different trades of our artisans, shall be able to employ them in the same fashion for all the uses to which they are appropriate, and thus shall render himself master and possessor of Nature." In these new triumphs of knowledge, he says, "men may learn to enjoy the fruits of the earth without trouble; their health will be preserved, and they will be able to exempt themselves from an infinitude of ills, as well of body as of mind, and even, perhaps, from the weakness of old age." As I repeat these words, uttered long before the steam-engine, the railroad, the electric telegraph, and the use of ether, I seem to hear a prophecy, the prophecy of Science, which each day helps to fulfil. "Without intending any slight," he continues, "I am sure that even those engaged in these matters will confess that all that they know is almost nothing in comparison with what remains to be known."[250] There is grandeur in the assurance with which the great philosopher announces the Future.

From Descartes I come to Pascal, never to be mentioned without a tribute to the early genius which, though removed from life at the age of thirty-nine, left an ineffaceable trace upon the religion, science, and literature of his time. The Law of Progress received from him its earliest and most distinct statement as a rule of philosophy applicable to all the sciences depending upon experience and reason. This is to be found in that posthumous work of eloquent piety and sentiment, Les Pensées, first published by his companions of Port Royal, in 1669, some time after his death; and it is not a little curious, as an illustration of the prejudices this truth has encountered, that the chapter where it is set forth, entitled Of Authority in Matters of Philosophy, was in this early edition suppressed. Not until the next century was the testimony of Pascal disclosed to the world. "By a special prerogative of the human race," says he, "not only each man advances day by day in the sciences, but all men together make continual progress therein, as the universe grows old; because the same thing happens in the succession of men which takes place in the different ages of an individual. So that the whole succession of men in the course of so many ages may be regarded as one man who lives always and who learns continually. From this we see with what injustice we respect Antiquity in its philosophers; for, since old age is the period most distant from infancy, who does not see that the old age of this universal man must not be sought in the times nearest his birth, but in those which are the most remote? They whom we call the Ancients were indeed new in all things, and properly formed the infancy of mankind; and since to their knowledge we have joined the experience of the ages which have followed, it is in ourselves that is to be found that Antiquity which we revere in the others."[251] We cannot admire too much this splendid inspiration, where the expression is in harmony with the thought. When it was said that mankind may be regarded "as one man who lives always and who learns continually," there was indeed a new discovery, as great as if a new continent or a new planet had been disclosed.

The age enlightened by the genius of Pascal was ready to discuss the question then at hand, on the comparative merits of Ancients and Moderns, involving an inquiry into the principles of Progress, particularly in art and literature. The close of the seventeenth century witnessed this memorable debate, which extended from France to England. French critics, under the lead of Boileau, espoused the cause of the Ancients. Against them was Charles Perrault, conspicuous at the time among academicians, and still remembered as author of those Fairy Tales, including "Cinderella" and "Bluebeard," which have given him a fame not inferior to that of his brother, Claude Perrault, with whom he is sometimes confounded, to whom France is indebted for that perpetual triumph in architecture, the unsurpassed front of the Louvre. In an elaborate work, published in 1688-92, entitled "Parallel between the Ancients and Moderns in regard to the Arts and Sciences,"[252] where the debate is in the form of dialogue, he vindicates the Moderns in comparison with the Ancients, and insists, that, notwithstanding the perfection at which the latter arrived, the Moderns have an advantage from prolonged experience and its necessary accumulations. Like Pascal, whose remarkable words were still unpublished, he, too, sees the life of Humanity as the life of an individual man eternal, and, though recognizing epochs of retrogression in history, asserts the continuous progress of the race, not only in the sciences, but also in morals and the arts, not forgetting the art of the kitchen.

This sentiment found similar utterance in a lively contemporary, Fontenelle, an honored academician, whose life extended to a length of days unequalled in the history of literature, having accomplished one hundred years, after devoting that century of existence to the exclusive pursuit of letters. "A good mind cultivated," says this exceptional veteran, "is, so to speak, composed of all the minds of the preceding ages: it is but one and the same mind that has been cultivated during all this period. So that this man, who has lived from the beginning of the world to the present time, has had his infancy, when he was occupied only with the more pressing wants of life,—his youth, when he has succeeded pretty well in matters of imagination, such as poesy and eloquence, and when he has even begun to reason, but with less solidity than fire. He has now reached the age of manhood, when he reasons with more force and more intelligence than ever; but he would be yet further advanced, if the passion for war had not for a long time possessed him, and given him a contempt for the sciences, to which he has at last returned.... This man will have no old age; he will be ever equally capable of the things to which his youth was fitted, and ever more and more so of those which belong to the age of manhood: that is to say,—to quit the allegory,—men will never degenerate, but the sound views of the entire succession of good minds will always be added to one another."[253]—Titian, like Fontenelle, was remarkable for unusual length of days; but the consummate artist, among his immortal pictures, has left hardly one more worthy of immortality than this brilliant statement, where the discovery of Pascal is affirmed and presented with singular clearness and precision.

Thus, in France, was the Law of Progress confessed in the sciences by Descartes and Pascal,—in literature, in arts, and even in morals, by Perrault and Fontenelle. This was before the expiration of the seventeenth century. It remained that it should be announced, not only as a special law applicable to certain departments, but as a general Law of Humanity, universal in application, guiding men in all their labors, and erecting before them a goal of aspiration and of certain triumph. This was done by another, who was not philosopher only, nor statesman only, nor philanthropist only, but in whom this triumvirate of characters blended with rare success,—Turgot, the well-loved minister of Louis the Sixteenth. It was said of him by Voltaire, that "he was born wise and just"; and this tribute has especial point, when it is considered that his acceptance of this law was first announced in an essay[254] written in 1750, at the age of twenty-three, while he was yet at the Sorbonne. Let it be mentioned in his praise, that, as he grew in years, in power, and in fame, he did not depart from the happy intuitions of early life, or forget the visions which, as a young man, he had seen. Perceiving clearly the advance already made, he drew from it the assurance of yet further advance. In reason, knowledge, and virtue he did not hesitate to place his own age before preceding ages. "The corrupt of to-day," he was accustomed to say, "would have been Capuchins a hundred years ago." He declared the capacity for indefinite improvement a distinctive quality of the human race, belonging to the race in general, and to each individual in particular. He did not doubt that the progress of the physical sciences, of education, of method in the sciences, or the discovery of new methods, would enlarge the powers of man, rendering him capable of preserving a larger number of ideas in the memory, and of multiplying their relations. Nor did he doubt that the moral sense was equally capable of improvement,—that man would become constantly better in proportion as he was enlightened,—that the advance of society would necessarily keep pace with the advance of morals,—that politics, founded, like other sciences, upon observation and reason, would advance also,—that all useful truths must be finally known and adopted, while ancient errors are by degrees annihilated, or give place to new truths,—and that this Progress, increasing always from age to age, has no term, or none at least which can be assigned in the present state of human intelligence.

The early testimony of Turgot was repeated at a later day in his precious fragment on Universal History, which, when compared with the Introductory Discourse of Bossuet on the same theme, shows how superior in the philosophy of history was the layman to the bishop. All ages, says Turgot, are enchained by a succession of causes and effects uniting the present with what has preceded, and all accumulated knowledge is a common treasure, transmitted from generation to generation, as an inheritance, augmented by the discoveries of each age. In this spirit he inaugurates Universal History, giving to it a just elevation, as the exhibition of Human Progress in all its epochs, with all its hindrances, and crowned by all its triumphs.[255]

Such testimony, commended by the earnestness of conviction, was not without influence on the great movement which culminated in the earlier revolution of France, or rather it was part of that movement. It found welcome in many bosoms, and helped stir the vast mass. Among those especially penetrated by it was the friend and biographer of Turgot, who was not behind his master in this loyalty: I refer to Condorcet. This unfortunate nobleman, conspicuous for learning and genius, particularly in mathematics, and for honest devotion to the principles of the Revolution, when at last proscribed, and compelled to flee for life,—pursued by the very dogs he had helped to arouse, but was impotent to restrain,—sought shelter with a friend, where, in concealment, he passed the last eight months before his mournful death. His first thought was, to send forth a vindication of himself, addressed to his fellow-citizens; but soon renouncing this design, he devoted what remained to him of life—during that most hateful passage of human history, the Reign of Terror—to the preparation of a work in which he brought his various powers to the development of the Law of Human Progress. It is entitled "Sketch of an Historical Table of the Progress of the Human Mind,"[256] and reviews human society in its different stages, unfolding the order of its changes and the influences transmitted from age to age, pointing out the different steps in the march towards truth and happiness. From observation of man as he has been, and as he is to-day, the author passes naturally to those new triumphs which are his certain destiny, so long as he continues to possess the faculties with which he is endowed, and to be governed by the same universal laws.

Thus wrote Condorcet, while the hand of Death yet waited. He died; but the return to reason in France was signalized by unaccustomed homage to the victim. The Committee of Public Instruction reported, that the sketch was "a classical work offered to republican schools by an unfortunate philosopher, that everywhere in it the improvement of society was recognized as the object most deserving the activity of the human intelligence, and that pupils studying here the history of the sciences and the arts would learn to cherish liberty and to detest and vanquish all tyrannies"; and thereupon the National Convention ordered three thousand copies to be distributed at the expense of the nation.[257] And here properly closes this branch of our subject.

The high lineage and authority of this law I have traced, not by the enthusiasts of Humanity, not by Fénelon or Saint-Pierre, not by Diderot or Rousseau, but by a succession of masters who are our acknowledged guides in science, philosophy, and history. In Italy the torch was held aloft by Vico; in Germany, by Leibnitz, Lessing, and Herder; in France it passed through the hands of Descartes, Pascal, Perrault, Fontenelle, Turgot, and Condorcet:—

"Et quasi cursores, vitaï lampada tradunt,"[258]

till at last, at the close of the eighteenth century, its flame was seen from afar. To England we seem little indebted; and yet, when I think of Lord Bacon, I am disposed to say that we are much indebted. This law inspired his great work on the "Advancement of Learning," and is expressed in its very title. It entered into his aspiration to deliver man from present weakness by extending his power over Nature. It is foreshadowed in his great declaration, antedating Pascal, that Antiquity was the youth of the world,—"Antiquitas sæculi, juventus mundi."[259] For a time Bacon had no successors in England. At a later day this law was cordially embraced by Dr. Price,[260] the friend and correspondent of Turgot. Dr. Johnson, who surely did not accept it, shows an unconscious sympathy with it, when he says of life in pastoral countries, that it "knows nothing of progression or advancement."[261] Unhappy people, thus without visible Future on earth!

To the eighteenth century belongs the honor—signal honor I venture to call it—of first distinctly acknowledging and enunciating that Law of Human Progress, which, though preached in Judea eighteen hundred years ago, failed to be received by men,—nay, still fails to be received by men. Writers in our own age, of much ability and unexampled hardihood, while adopting this fundamental law, proceed to arraign existing institutions of society. My present purpose does not require me to consider these, whether for censure or praise,—abounding as they do in evil, abounding as they do in good. It is my single aim to trace the gradual development and final establishment of that great law which teaches that "there is a good time coming,"—a Future even on earth, to arouse the hopes, the aspirations, and the energies of Man.

II.

The way is now prepared to consider the character, conditions, and limitations of this law, the duties it enjoins, and the encouragements it affords.

Let me state the law as I understand it. Man, as an individual, is capable of indefinite improvement. Societies and nations, which are but aggregations of men, and, finally, the Human Family, or collective Humanity, are capable of indefinite improvement. And this is the destiny of man, of societies, of nations, and of the Human Family.

Restricting the proposition to the capacity for indefinite improvement, I believe I commend it to the candor and intelligence of all who have meditated upon this subject. And this brings me to the remarkable words of Leibnitz. He boldly says, as we have already seen, that man seems able to arrive at perfection. Turgot and Condorcet also speak of his "perfectibility,"—a term adopted by recent French writers. If by this is meant simply that man is capable of indefinite improvement, then it will not be questioned. But whatever the heights of virtue and intelligence to which he may attain in future ages, who can doubt that to his grander vision new summits will ever present themselves, provoking him to still grander aspirations? God only is perfect. Knowledge and goodness, his attributes, are infinite; nor can man hope, in any lapse of time, to comprehend this immensity. In the infinitude of the universe, he will seem, like Newton, with all his acquisitions, only to have gathered a few pebbles by the seaside. In a similar strain Leibnitz elsewhere says that the place which God assigns to man in space and time necessarily limits the perfections he is able to acquire. As in Geometry the asymptote constantly approaches its curve, so that the distance between them is constantly diminishing, and yet, though prolonged indefinitely, they never meet, so, according to him, are infinite souls the asymptotes of God.